I’m recalling memories of my father by occasionally visiting places significant in his life. Every time I do, these places give up a little bit more about what made my father who he was.
It was when I was maybe twenty two that my father and I started talking a little bit more.
I am the quieter parent, just like my Dad was, but my heart bursts with so many things I want to say to my son, hoping that these things help him become better than I am. I’m quite sure that’s what my father thought, because once when I asked him how come he never told me much about his…
Originally published in Esquire Singapore, June 2016
Kumar and I are sitting outside the rehearsal studio bitching about our mothers. It is Sunday, and we’ve both had to tell our mothers that we can’t spend time with them because we have rehearsal.